Mr and Mrs Pelham of London
by ChaliceInk
Summary: AU. Bertie and Edith settle down to middle class domestic bliss in London. Starts before the wedding... I don't usually go AU, but I always thought they'd have been happier without the title. Chapter 3 The newlywed Pelhams take London!
1. Embrace it

**Mr. and Mrs. Pelham of London**

 **Embrace it**

 _This is my AU story. Keep in mind all I know about the Civil Service I learned from_ _Yes, Minster_ _and_ _Yes, Prime Minister_ _so... it's going to be pretty fanciful. It was just a job I thought Bertie could work through the depression and still make decent money._

Evelyn had be extremely glad to hire Bertie on Henry's recommendation. Well, not just Henry's recommendation. Evelyn's supervisor's brother had been Bertie's commanding officer in the careers. The Brigadier had been so effusive in his recommendation, Evelyn had felt quite lucky to not be working for Mr. Pelham by the time the offer had been extended.

Bertie had been very excited to tell Edith. She'd accepted his proposal when she believed she was going to be buried in the Northumberland and raising her child with him on a land agent's pay. He felt relieved this wouldn't be the case. He'd actually be doing very well at this job- moneywise and she'd get to spend more time at the magazine. And for the time being they could live at her flat. This prospect didn't exactly thrill him, being her inheritance from her late lover and father of Marigold but he had some ideas that would make it better.

And besides, he could be magnanimous about Gregson. He was alive and Edith's lover and after the paperwork went through, he'd also be Marigold's father. If the price was living in the man's tastefully decorated flat, well, he did have a plan.

"Hello, Miss Edmonds, is Lady Edith in?" He asked, popping his head in, not seeing Audrey.

"She's out trousseau shopping with her mother and Aunt Rosamund," Laura grinned, crushing out her cigarette, "Only 3 weeks to the big day!"

Bertie nodded, happily, "I know. But it can't come soon enough! My cousin Peter's flying in from Tangiers tomorrow. I am going to pay dearly for dragging back him into this freezing cold."

"A best man job isn't all roses and stag nights." Laura teased.

"Given that in lieu of a stag night I plan to take him back to Brancaster to parade him before the tenants for Christmas..." Bertie shook his head, "He may be well authorized to shoot me. Thank goodness he won't be able to do that unless I unpack his gun and actually load it for him." Laura laughed.

"Darling," Edith beamed coming through the door, and giving him a kiss, "This is nice!"

"I thought you were out with your mother and aunt," he embraced her.

"I was meant to be, but Mama had to take the train back to York this morning. Something with the hospital. It was too cold to go from shop to shop, so Rosamund and I just went to one place and then chucked the rest of the plan." She snuggled in, "My, Peter is going to be so delighted to be returning for the cold snap."

Peter wasn't happy to be returning to England whatever the weather. He'd recovered from his bought of Malaria, but he'd never been a robust fellow... Now he just felt wrung out. But Bertie was like his little brother and going back for his wedding was the very least he could do. More than a brother really. He'd never judged him at all. He just accepted him. No lordly brother would have done so much for him and been so good about it. Witness him managing Brancaster since the death of the last Marquess. No Lord So & So would have done that for him, or been capable of doing it so well. And now Bertie was leaving him.

Bertie hadn't even told his bride that secret because he hadn't definitely secured a position in the private sector or civil service (and he lacked Peter's confidence in him), but Peter had contacted his mother's cousin to make an additional recommendation for the civil service. Not that it had even been necessary. His cousin apparently had many glowing references from his army career and the contacts he'd made as a land agent.

Brancaster was going to suffer without her favorite son that was certain, but Bertie deserved all the assistance Peter could give him. He just wished he could give him the whole lot of it. God knows Bertie would bring the whole Marquess thing off better. He was a countryman. He looked good in tweed for God's sake. He didn't catch cold every time he slept in that drafty castle. And to top it off, he'd managed to convince the daughter of an earl to marry him. On a land agent's salary!

Either Lady Edith was a very special person or Bertie was bit more of a charming bastard than his cousin gave him credit for.

Peter glanced and the folded newspapers sticking out of his briefcase. The London papers said there was a record cold snap in the north country. Bertie was going to drag him back to Brancaster to celebrate Christmas with the tenants, as was right, good and lordly. But every organ in his body still ached from his ordeal, adding bitter cold to the equation would help nothing. Each glance in the mirror told him that his blood... what blood? He was a walking container of clotted cream. He might just drop dead and the marquisate could be his wedding present to the happy couple and his Christmas present to the county.

He mustn't think like that. Bertie would be upset if he dropped dead. He'd have to survive.

Edith had elected to make dinner in her flat for her fiancé that night rather than go out. Mrs. Patmore and Daisy had been giving her cooking lessons much to Mary's eye rolling scorn and continuing japes about Bertie domesticating her. Edith had gleefully ignored her sister. She'd always wanted to learn to cook, this had been quite fun and exciting. Mrs. Hughes was so sweet to join in some of the lessons so she wouldn't feel self-conscious. Cousin Isobel and Lord Mertyon also were kind enough to let her prepare dinner for them once a week so she could practice and were always very effusive in their praise.

As was Bertie, full of praise and Edith might have detected a hint of relief that his high born bride was embracing the concept of modern, middle class life in such a practical way. But as she was very proud of herself, she might have been projecting.

"I still want to get up to see the cottage before Marigold and I move in," Edith said busily from the stove. "Perhaps I'll go up when you go up with Peter."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Bertie said, he paused and waited until she wouldn't burn herself, "What if we were to move to London after the wedding instead?"

Edith frowned and turned from the stove, "What are you talking about?" This seemed new territory.

"I've been offered a position with the Civil Service." He said, suddenly thinking he should have discussed this with her first.

"What position?" She took what she'd been cooking off the heat and then turned off the stovetop. "A position in the service isn't really spur of the moment."

"I'll be working in Evelyn Napier's department."

"Land management," she mused, relaxing a bit, "That's a good position for you... but is this what you want?" Edith looked up at him, doubtfully.

"I want us to have a good life. This will be best for our family," he reassured her, "You can do the work you love and I will actually make enough money to support a family with people in it."

"But it you love Brancaster," Edith wrapped her arms around him, "and what about Peter?"

"He knows. He even made sure I had a glowing recommendation," Bertie assured her, "he also knows I was never supposed to be working at Brancaster forever. My God, if you ask my mother, this is the job I was supposed to have straight out of the army. We still get to visit Brancaster, it is still my home in a way."

Edith groaned, "I really wanted Peter to like me... now I am taking you away from him."

"You aren't. I promise, Peter will love you. He's very reasonable. He only whinged over the phone for a quarter hour or so. I've already started lining up possible replacements," Bertie kissed her reassuringly.

"None as good as you," Edith said, ruefully.

"No, but I was severely over-qualified," he laughed, "It'll be interesting for me... having a job that's bit of a challenge. I mean more so than organizing shooting parties for bankers who can't shoot."

"Will we live here?" Edith asked, she knew the flat might not be his first choice.

"I thought we could," Bertie said, "I also thought we might purchase the flat above to make it more of a family home. I looked into the flat below, but it got snapped up. I've spoken to an agent, we can get it."

Edith smiled at this, "I like the idea of the one above! It's only a three room, but it has a full bath, it would give us a proper nursery and bedrooms for the children when they get older! It has attic access so we could do a skylight, perhaps," She bit her lip, "Bertie, this is only okay If you are really want this and aren't doing this just to make me happy..."

"I am very happy to join the world of people with suitable careers," he kissed her fully, "but I do like making you happy, so everything I am doing is toward that goal," another kiss, "don't act like you are any better. Learning to cook is adorable and completely unexpected. My mother doesn't know how to cook."

Edith laughed, "A woman makes one concession towards economy and everyone thinks she's embraced martyrdom. I still want a cleaning lady a couple of times a week and to send the laundry out, just like you have now."

"That's really all?" Bertie asked, "You are coming from a houseful of servants. We could afford to have someone live in... I mean now we absolutely can."

"No! Maybe after we have a baby, well get a nurse or something, but it's going to be divine not living in a house with a bunch of people. Just you, me and Marigold. That's all I want. That's why I love my flat. I get to pick my own wine irrespective of its pairing with my food, I listen to the wireless at breakfast, have supper at 6pm when I have Marigold down with me so we can eat together...I get to do it all without Carson, Mary or Granny giving me the evil eye."

"So... chaos?" Bertie asked.

"Oh, yes," Edith responded, smiling, "Embrace it."


	2. Stag Night

**Stag Night**

 _In this AU, Mary didn't get her happy ending with Henry Talbot. Honestly, because I don't think they belong together. He kind of grew on me in the last episode, but up until then he gave me a serious stalker vibe. "Marry me or I will never leave your family alone and I will make your life a living hell with my presence at the cocktail hour..."_

Peter came to the conclusion upon meeting Lady Edith that yes, she was a special person and yes, perhaps Bertie was a bit more of a charming bastard than he'd been given credit for. Once again he felt it was damn shame that Bertie wasn't Marquess, when he had such a perfect Marchioness as his bride.

Somehow he'd managed to muddle through Christmas without dying or causing county-wide scandal. Well Bertie had arranged everything so he'd just had to do what he was told while Bertie glad handed all the tenants and received congratulations on his up-coming nuptials and new job. He'd promised to bring his new bride up for inspection after the honeymoon. The tenants were clearly going to miss him. The old castle seemed to also sense the eminent departure of its caretaker and seemed even more haunted than usual to Peter.

According to Bertie the tenant Christmas party should be counted as his stag night. Peter told him he was cracked and told him to pack his kit, they were going to London. Peter had put in a call to Edith's brother-in-law Tom, who he hadn't met, but as he had no clue who to invite seemed like a decent place to start. He'd gotten a hold of a couple of Bertie's army friends who knew a couple more and after Tom had rounded up a few more lads it was a respectable 9 chaps going to a very upscale restaurant for nothing too debauched. Bertie had standards.

One of the chaps Tom procured arrived late and already drunk. His was name Henry Talbot. While Bertie Pelham had been successful wooing a daughter of the Earl of Grantham on charming bastardy alone, Henry Talbot had failed. Spectacularly. Within minutes of the dinner ending and cigars being lit, this extremely morose fellow had cornered Bertie with his tale of woe and leaving Peter to think, "Well, you did drag me into this picturesque Artic hellscape, cuz. Cheers to you."

"No, Bertie, I am happy for you," Henry assured him, slapping his arm hard enough to make one doubt his entire sincerity, "You got yours."

"Have you eaten, Henry, I didn't see you eat. It might be good for you to eat something," Bertie said, helpfully, "How are things going otherwise?"

"Edith is a great girl," Henry snagged a whiskey from a passing waiter, that it wasn't his whiskey meant nothing to him, and loudly noted, "I mean look at you. You don't have a pot to piss in any more than I do and she didn't make a huge fucking fuss about it!"

Bertie turned to Tom and gave him a discrete thumbs up. Tom, who was sitting at a table with Peter, Dr. Clarkson and two of Bertie's army buddies gave him a mortified smile and a double fisted thumbs up back.

"Mary's problem is that she thinks that a title still means something. She loves me. Of course, she loves me! I mean she won't admit that because that would mean she'd have to face the fact that she can't control every damn thing..." Henry ranted.

Sitting back as far as he could, Bertie was trying to think of how to diffuse the situation without getting hit in the face. Normally getting a black eye wouldn't bother him, but he was going to be standing on the altar in four days... There was no good way to do this. "Why don't you come to the wedding and take another run at it?" Bertie asked, before glancing at his cocktail, what the hell was in that? Insane juice?

Henry lit up, "Do you mean it?" he asked.

Bertie shrugged, "Honestly, it's not like Mary could possibly find me more annoying, come to the wedding."

"What do you mean?" Henry asked smiling.

Bertie grinned and shook his head, "She doesn't like it when people don't take the bait. I just won't. I also spend a lot of time pretending she hasn't spoken. Since she's usually said something rude, she can't actually demand that I answer."

"What's wrong with her? That doesn't sound like my Mary!" Henry said concerned.

Scoffing, Bertie shook his head, frowning, "That is the only Mary I've come across. Maybe she's upset about you, who knows? I do know she likes to take her woes out on Edith."

"Edith really is lovely, it would be good if they could be friends," Henry fretted.

"Good for whom?" Bertie asked, "Not Edith. That ship has sailed. The best thing will be when I get Edith out of that mausoleum and away from her sister's sniping. And I don't envy her next target."

Henry shook his head, "You don't know her..."

"No. I do would posit that you do not know her," Bertie disengaged from the conversation, "I've had instance to get to know Lady Mary quite well over the last few months. What I know of her I dislike intensely. I tolerate her because we are to be members of the same family, only she would disavow that connection because I am not worthy in some way or perhaps it is Edith. Because we don't not suffer from Mary induced dementia." He stood and began to leave stopping to speak to his cousin before walking out.

Henry walked to Tom, "What did Mary do?"

"She didn't do anything. She tried to do something fairly vile, but it backfired and now Bertie feels like he's seen her true colors..." Tom replied, "And Mary saw his. He came off like Edith's white knight, she looked like a bit of a sea witch." He raised his glass to his lips, "I was there, I saw the whole thing. Comparatively accurate eye witness account."

"Do you think I am still invited to the wedding?" Henry asked, eagerly.

Bertie knew where he was heading. The flat. His hat was nowhere near warm enough to battle the cold winds. He'd traded a black eye in for frost bitten ears. He wished he had his deer stalker, but as he was neither stalking deer nor Sherlock Holmes that would have been inappropriate head gear. He shouldn't have shared his opinion of Lady Mary with Henry. Edith, herself semi-approved of the match as a possible calming influence. But he would never forget the morning he'd announced their engagement to Mary and Tom and Mary had elected to tell him about Marigold. Or Edith's past. That was how she referred to her own niece.

Suffice to say, that the reason Edith had called him to Downton to explain about Marigold before accepting his proposal. He'd spent the hours from 11pm to 2am the night previously in the music room where Edith had requested he wait for her so they could discuss his proposal privately.

She'd quietly entered the room, gone and poured them both a glass of cognac, "Go sit by the fireplace and open this," she told him as she handed him his drink and an envelope. Inside was a document in French, which he could read perfectly thanks to the war. It was a certificate of live birth. Listing Edith Crawley as the mother to a daughter named Marigold. The child's father's name was listed as Michael Gregson. Her birth date was 8 months after his estimated day of death, from what Edith had told him.

Bertie would be lying if he said he didn't feel the wind go out of his sails a bit at that moment. His ego wanted to believe that he was really the only one she'd ever loved, even as the honest voice deep inside him screamed for him to be reasonable. Edith hadn't hidden anything, not her intense love and attachment to her little ward, not her sizable inheritance from her never official fiancé, not the fact that her life was overly complicated. Men didn't leave everything to casual attachments. Looking back with clear eyes, Bertie could see Edith almost wanting, almost begging him to figure it out on his own, to spare herself this conversation. Glancing to where his love sat at the piano, her hands in her lap, her eyes downcast like she wanted to look anywhere but at him reading.

She held herself like a child who'd already been scolded for an offense and who knew perfectly well what she'd done wrong, but accepted there would be more punishment to come and she must accept it.

Bertie felt a deep sense of hatred for whomever taught her that lesson so well.

He put the envelop on top of the piano in front of her and sat beside her, he spoke softly, "Can you tell me?"

"She's my daughter." Edith replied, her voice louder than he'd anticipated, prouder, "They wanted me to give her up and I tried, but I could never do it. Maybe I should have been able to, it would have been the unselfish thing to do. To leave her with one of the families." She sighed, "But I am selfish, Bertie. She's mine. I need her. We belong together. And eventually I found a way we could be. Eventually. When my parents found out, I was able to bring her to live with me, here. Though I was prepared to move to America with her I didn't want to do that. It would have meant giving up the magazine and the flat. All things that are meant to be her inheritance."

Bertie slide his arm around her waist and she moved into his embrace. Edith sighed and kept talking, "That was supposed to be it for me. Everyone said so. Nobody would want a woman tied down with a child that wasn't even hers. Well, it didn't matter, I didn't expect to find love after Michael anyway and no one who'd said it knew who Marigold was and what she meant. Then you came along," She turned and smiled fondly, "on a happy day. The day I'd been able to stop lying to my father. He'd figured it out and not only that, he'd been so been so loving about it all. And our relationship has never been better, really," She stopped to wipe her tears away, "But that day, I just felt so light in my soul. It was a good day to meet you. I might have made a much better impression than I normally do," here she laughed dryly.

The tears were running freely again, so she reached into his dinner jacket and pulled out his handkerchief, "I'd ask if I may borrow this, but this is the toll, for this conversation since I have no idea where mine is at the moment," she dried her eyes. "I knew right off that I liked you a lot. And then I realized you liked me, which seemed extraordinary. And that night at the magazine when you helped save my life, oh, Bertie, I never wanted anyone to kiss me so badly in my whole life..."

"So I should have done it..." Bertie pulled a face.

"Audrey wrecked it," Edith remembered, "So we drank more coffee. I was a jittery kitten all day after all that coffee. I also knew I was in big trouble. Especially when you started writing me and calling me. And I starting writing you back and calling you on my own. I couldn't help it. I liked you so much. And when we started seeing each other and I knew I was in love with you and it was the same for you..." she dried her eyes again, "And I still hadn't told you who Marigold was. I knew I needed to, but I just wanted more time. But then you proposed and it felt like I left it too long. It feels like I left it too long. But I wanted you to know her and know what she means to me. Before I could tell you."

"You were hoping I'd guess?" Bertie offered.

"Well... everyone else has," Edith sniffled, "Except Mama and Aunt Rosamund. But I've only ever told you and Aunt Rosamund. Oh, but Bertie, Mary doesn't know anything. She can't."

"She can't?" Bertie asked.

"She'd make a thing of it. I can't explain it, but it's far better for both Marigold and me that she not know. Our relationship is too strained for anything good to come of it," Edith said with finality, "But I don't want to talk about Mary," She reached out and took the envelope in both hands and held it against her stomach.

"We aren't children, Edith," Bertie said, turning her to face him, "I knew about Gregson at least intellectually, I did know," he couldn't stop his face from falling a bit here, "but I have gotten to know Marigold. You were right, that was important. She's a darling girl. I know she means the world to you. I already agreed to take her with us. I've sort of started to look forward to it," he cupped her face, "you sweet girl, I love you, so much," she started shaking, in relief, "My God, Edith, what did you think was going to happen?"

"I have a vast and vile imagination. You have no idea," Edith said, breathing deeply, trying to calm herself, "So you still want to marry me?"

"Yes. I love you. Do you want to marry me?" He asked, holding her upright, wondering if she needed to lie down.

Edith waved the envelope in front of his nose, "Are you daft? I showed you this!" She threw herself into his arms, "Yes! Yes! Yes! I will to marry you! I love you!" She pulled back, "Now kiss me, so I can faint."

He had kissed her. He kissed for a good half hour and she hadn't fainted. She'd calmed down and it was like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. When he'd told her that he'd looked into them legally adopting Marigold after the wedding, he'd never been kissed that much in his life.

The next morning, Mary hadn't just attacked his Edith, she'd endangered his Marigold. He'd already come to take that very seriously.

Bertie had glared at Mary and replied, "No one's past is spotless, Lady Mary, yours included, I daresay, (he was bluffing) It should give you great pleasure to know that Edith and I will legally adopt Marigold after the wedding. I've already spoken to a lawyer. That should silence any foul gossips who don't know how to keep their mouths shut." Then Edith had gotten him out of the room and dragged him to the nursery.

The flat was empty when he arrived, but he now had a key, so he let himself in. It was coldish in the apartment and he still needed to thaw, so he made sure the radiator was turned on. He couldn't quite believe he was going to live with central heating. How modern. When he came back from the honeymoon this would be his home. When he'd told Peter about the scheme to by the flat upstairs, Peter had immediately purchased it for them as a wedding present. A bit of a grand wedding present, but since Bertie had been anticipating/dreading Peter's present would be a painting of naked young men fishing, he and Edith had accepted graciously.

The flat's only deficiency was that it contained the ghost of Gregson, but so did Marigold and Edith, herself, in a way. He loved them, so he could learn tolerate the flat. Besides, he had kissed Edith for the first time in this flat, made love to her for the first time here. If Edith wasn't troubled by a spectral presence, he shouldn't be either. And once they started knocking down the ceiling and moving rooms around, it would be their flat, truly. They'd be drowning in plaster dust in this summer, during the renovation, but it would be worth it.

Edith was excited about it just being the three of them. He wondered if she'd ever had any privacy in her life before. Had Marigold? He hadn't lived with anyone since the army, let alone a woman and a child. It was bound to be a period of adjustment, but he loved the both a goofy amount so he was sure it was going to work out well. He opened up the refrigerator (another modern convenience he hadn't thought he'd be living with) and it was pretty barren, not surprising since Edith hadn't been here in over a week and wouldn't be coming back for another few weeks. He was going to have to hit the liquor cabinet. Likewise pretty barren. Frangelico to the rescue.

New wife, new daughter, new job, big city, haunted flat... Bertie thought as he dozed in the big comfy chair... January was going to be a big month for him. He wished the wedding was over. It would be so nice if Marigold was asleep in her little bed and Edith was nestled beside him. And there was something to drink in the flat besides cordials.


	3. First Day at School

**First Day at School**

Their honeymoon had been a week in Paris. They'd meant to see the sights, to enjoy French cuisine which they both loved, and to go dancing as much as possible.

Well, they remembered to have dinner every night. The rest of the time they were very involved in having as much bed time as they could squeeze into a 24 hour period. Really, for all they saw of Paris, they should have stayed at their flat and read some books containing pictures of it.

The Monday after they returned to London, two big things would happen. Bertie would start his new position with the civil service and Marigold would start her first day of school. Although her mother, Bertie's mother and Granny had all voiced vehement concern because they thought the child was too young to go, it was a school that followed the principles of Montessori education, so three was the perfect age to start. Thank God, Isobel and Aunt Rosamund had both heard of it. So she had a bit of support. Granny had still made a comment that it sounded dreadfully Italian, but if Edith thought it best {sniff sniff} who was she to say?

Marigold was less nervous than Bertie. Mostly because Edith had talked her through every aspect of what was going to happen, she hadn't done that for Bertie. But he still found the little girl waiting for her mother in the lounge while Edith was trying to tame the post breakfast dishes. She was trying to make herself quite tiny in her little rose colored dress by curling up in to a corner of the sofa. The look she was going for appeared to be decorative cushion. "You must be a menace at hide and go seek, young lady," he sat next to the little girl and a quick tickle had her expanding to full size.

"I don't want to go." She said softly, "I won't know anyone."

Bertie nodded, "I have to go someplace where I won't really know anyone either. It's not easy."

Marigold scrambled into his lap, "are you scared?"

"No, sweetness. Because I've done it before. This is something you are going to do a lot. But even though you don't know anyone right now, that won't be true by the end of the day," He said, hugging her.

"What if I hate it?" Marigold asked.

"Let's not assume you'll hate it. Assume you'll like it. Mama went to a lot of trouble to find this school for you. They do a lot of fun things, so you'll be busy all day with different puzzles and other games."

"I like puzzles," Marigold nodded, then frowned, "the porridge was different this morning." She whispered.

Bertie cut his eyes to the kitchen, "I know. We'll just eat it."

Edith held it together all the way to the school door. She saw Marigold to her classroom, spoke briefly to the teachers, then walked to a nearby park and wept, pitifully for a quarter hour. Then she managed to haul herself into the magazine.

"There's the blushing bride!" Laura called as she walked in the door, seeing her reddened eyes, "what's all this?"

"I just dropped Marigold off for her first day of school," Edith dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, "It's possible I am a little over-wrought."

"Well, if you hadn't worked yourself up into a maternal frenzy, would you be blushing, bride?" Laura asked with a grin.

Edith grinned back through her tears, "I would be red as a beet."

"Excellent! Good to know this sex thing isn't over rated." Laura smirked as she lit a cigarette.

Edith picked up a magazine off the coffee table and pretended to read it, "You have a filthy mind."

"Well, birds of a feather..." Laura teased. And both women started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Audrey popped her head in, smiling brightly.

"The boss was just going to regal us with tales of connubial debauchery," Laura waved her in.

"I was not!" Edith tried to wave her out, "I don't kiss and tell."

Audrey snorted, "Who cares about kissing?"

Edith and Laura locked eyes, "Birds of a feather."

Bertie's office was quite a bit less merry. His direct supervisor was Evelyn Napier, who somehow rose to the rank of department head despite a reputation for fecklessness of a herculean variety. Bertie's first assignment was going to be going back through all of last year's crop management reports to create a condensed report for the ministers of land management. He rightfully wondered if his days of seeing sunlight were over. But it was January. He did always sort of wonder that in January.

He'd had lunch with Evelyn and Evelyn's supervisor, who'd been Bertie's commander during the last year of the war. Evelyn kept waxing poetic about Mary and Bertie kept having to pretend like he could tolerate her. The newly widowed Mr. Magnus apparently knew Aunt Rosamund and would be quite interested in a closer acquaintanceship.

Suddenly, his pathway to career advancement seemed clear, open a matchmaking service for Edith's female relatives with middle management of the civil service. Or perhaps just a brothel.

Begging off a chance to go to drink with the other cogs in the machine, he'd gone straight home to the flat. He could hear the wireless playing and both Marigold and Edith laughing at something in the kitchen.

They were laughing at the chicken. He looked at it. It smelled good, it looked cooked, but for some reason as it sat on top of the stove, both his wife and daughter found it to be the height of hilarity. When they saw him standing in the doorway looking confused, they just waved hello.

Finally Marigold choked out, "It bounced." Which made her mother shake her head no.

Eventually the truth came out that the chicken had fallen on the floor as it was being transferred from roaster to platter. In a moment of desperation, Edith had looked at Marigold, it was only on the floor for a second. It practically bounced onto the platter. The lie was so absurd it made them both laugh for five minutes straight.

Bertie nodded, then looked at the chicken. It smelled fine. It looked fine. "Maybe we just take the skin off and eat it like that."

Edith agreed immediately, "Let's carve it in here. I think it is still trying to escape," she said handing him the carving knife.

"It bounced. Really?" He shook his head. She gave him a kiss and started laughing again.

Marigold, was sitting on a high stool watching. She was having quite a good day. School had been a bit of fun, like Mr. Pelham... like her Papa had said it would be. There'd been all sorts of things to do, she'd not been bored even once. She'd even meet a nice girl named Cressida. She had hair as red as a carrot and more freckles than Marigold had ever thought possible, but granted she was 3, but still. She and Cressida had done most of the games together and had a nice talk. There'd been a few others, but only Cressida had a name she couldn't pronounce and hair she would never forget.

She was going to like spending time with her new mama and papa like this, she thought. She'd been in the kitchen with her mama since she'd come home from school. First she'd been given a glass of milk and a small cake for a snack and they'd talked about her day. Then she'd watched as mama made dinner. Mama was much happier now than when she'd been Aunt Edith.

She'd get to eat dinner with them too and she wouldn't have to sleep until 8 o'clock at night. Marigold felt like a proper lady. She wasn't sure how she felt about this having her own room business, but it was such a nice room. It was painted yellow, just like she would have wanted. Her blankets were covered in bunnies and kittens. And she had her own toys in her own toy box. She had a little table for coloring or puzzles. She even had a little bed that popped up, so that Sybbie could come to sleep over.

But as happy as Marigold was she knew one thing. She wanted nothing to do with that chicken.


End file.
